


Focus On Me

by RedShirtWriter34567



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Phobias, Power Outage, Scared Crowley (Good Omens), Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:41:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23032612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedShirtWriter34567/pseuds/RedShirtWriter34567
Summary: Aziraphale comes to Crowley's rescue when another thunderstorm blows through England.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 144





	Focus On Me

Crowley sat in the center of his bed, knees hugged to his chest, hands over his ears, eyes tightly closed, trying to block out the noise of the storm raging outside. He whimpered and folded himself up tighter as thunder crashed and lightning lit up his dark flat. The storm had knocked out his power, adding to his fear and anxiety. Visions from his Fall flashed through his mind. Raindrops stung his skin like acid. Howling winds tore at his robes and whipped his red ringlets about. Thunder covered up the sounds of his screaming. 

"Please make it stop," Crowley whispered, tears welling up in his eyes. 

Another loud thunderclap shook his flat. He sobbed and brought his wings out, wrapping them around himself like a cocoon. The storm continued to rage on. Crowley was terrified and began to cry. Suddenly, he sensed a presence in the room with him. Not a threatening one, but a familiar, gentle one. He inhaled deeply and smelled old parchment, sun-kissed apples, and tea. A warm, silver light glowed in the darkness as a hand appeared on his wing.

"Crowley?" a familiar and welcome voice asked.

The demon shifted and peeked out from behind his wings like a shy child hiding behind his parents. Aziraphale was in the room, a silver orb of light in his left hand. His face was tight with concern.

"Angel," Crowley said with relief. "When did you get here?"

"Just now," Aziraphale answered. "Once the storm started I grew worried about you, especially when you weren't answering your phone."

"My power's out," Crowley explained. "My mobile's dead. I've been too scared to perform any miracles."

Thunder boomed outside and he whimpered again. Aziraphale climbed onto the bed and Crowley opened his wings to let him in close, then closed them again. Aziraphale still held the orb of light in his palm, illuminating the demon's golden eyes, streaked with tears, slit pupils wide with fright. His lower lip was red from where he'd been biting it with his sharp teeth. He cried out softly as lightning lit up the room again. His breathing was getting ragged.

"Focus on me, dear boy," Aziraphale said softly. "I'm right here with you."

Crowley shrugged his shoulders, and his wings vanished. He curled into his angel, pressing his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his calming sent. Aziraphale brought out his white wings, shielding his demon from the storm. He pressed kisses to his demon's forehead and stroked his red hair, rocking him gently as the storm continued. With each clap of thunder, every flash of lightning, Crowley whimpered and pressed closer to the angel, seemingly trying to merge with him. His breath was hot against the angel's neck, his tears soaking into Aziraphale's jacket. 

"Just relax, my dear boy," Aziraphale murmured gently. "I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere."

Crowley nuzzled his neck, arms tight around Aziraphale's waist. Eventually, perhaps because of the angel's presence, the demon was able to fall asleep despite the storm. Aziraphale laid the demon down on his side and pulled him close against his chest, still stroking his hair. He miracled up a soft blanket and tucked it tenderly around his demon, kissing his forehead. The storm lasted for another twenty minutes before it finally settled down to a steady drizzle. The power flicked back on in the flat, but Crowley remained asleep. His face was relaxed, his lips parted slightly as soft snores escape his mouth. Aziraphale smiled at the peaceful sight and miracled up a book and his glasses. He began to read while one hand stroked through his demon's hair, the rain pattering gently outside.

Crowley slept for about an hour before he stirred. He slowly blinked his eyes open and found himself nestled against Aziraphale's chest, the worn fabric of his waistcoat soft against the demon's cheek. It was still raining outside, but the storm was over. Crowley hummed and cuddled closer to his angel.

"There you are," Aziraphale said with a smile. He closed his book and removed his glasses, setting them both aside and stroking Crowley's face. 

The demon purred and leaned into the touch like a cat. "How long have I been asleep?"

"About an hour," Aziraphale answered. "The storm is over now."

"Good," Crowley mumbled. He felt warm and comfortable as he heard the rain pattering quietly outside. "Do I have to get up?"

Aziraphale smiled and shook his head. "No, my dear," he said. "I know you don't like going out in the rain either. We can stay here until it stops."

Crowley grinned sleepily and closed his eyes again, pressing his face into his angel's chest. Aziraphale clicked his tongue fondly and pulled the blanket up higher over Crowley before putting on his glasses and picking up his book again, content to just lay with his demon, stroking his hair and keeping him close.


End file.
